


Unfinished Stories of Depravity

by xXxdanknoscoperxXx



Category: Original Work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-03
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 06:51:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5617441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXxdanknoscoperxXx/pseuds/xXxdanknoscoperxXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some pieces of stories I'd written some years ago that I found on my old harddrive. Maybe if someone likes them I'll rewrite one and actually finish it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Failed Warrior

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Two guys are in a PoW camp and one of the guards turns out to be more sadistic than previously thought.

“How dare you fucking talk to me that way! I could kill you in a motherfucking instant, you hear me, you little prick?”

Derek was silent, yet he continued to glare angrily at the officer against his better judgment.

“You like being a fucking spectacle, yeah?”

No answer, but he kept glaring, his gaze absolutely unwavering.

“Then you give these people something to watch, faggot.” He motioned toward his right hip, and it could be seen that he kept a pistol there at all times, before continuing.

“Suck his cock, homo.”

He pointed straight at Matthew.

Derek was speechless. He didn’t quite know what to make of what had just been said, but he did not dare to question it. He simply remained silent, those eyes of his widening tremendously despite his best efforts to keep as straight-faced as possible.

He hoped desperately that he had misheard. He was young, but maybe his hearing had started to fail on him. Hearing damage would have been a million times better.

“I told you to suck it!” The voice boomed throughout the whole building, against the walls and right back to Derek, hitting him with a tremendous blow, though he tried so terribly hard to resist.

Derek could see that everyone was staring right at him. Fuck… This was fucking humiliating.

“Get on your knees and fucking suck it!”

He stared blankly in front of himself, trying not to show any emotion whatsoever, despite the sickening feeling that now began to slowly creep over his entire being. Was he… Serious?

“Get down on your fucking knees, asshole.”

He could feel those words forcing themselves into his ear, and he already felt violated. Suddenly, the gun was pressed against his back, and he knew he was screwed. If he wanted to live…

Derek scowled as he slowly, painfully slowly, allowed his knees to buckle underneath him, simply letting himself fall onto them, making his face just level with…

He turned his face away, just hoping that he wouldn’t really have to. This officer was being a dick, was all. He was fucking around with him. Please, please, please let him just be screwing around with his authority.

“I told you to fucking do something.” That voice came, crushing every last little inkling of hope that he had left. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck.

No response from Derek, but he bit his lip, trying so, so hard to not let out any of his frustration, as intense as it may have been.

“Suck his fucking cock, you faggot!”

Now the gun moved its way up to his head and he could feel the cold sting of metal against his scalp, and he knew that, if he wanted to, the officer could take his life in an instant. After all, what was he now? Only some piece of shit that could be humiliated to their heart’s content. The very thought made him want to just scream.

He could hear the sharp click, which reverberated throughout his skull, and he knew exactly what it meant. This motherfucker was not shitting him, and Derek had to make a choice. Was this really worth dying over? Was it really?

He could feel everyone’s eyes boring holes right into him, and it almost made him collapse completely right then and there.

Fuck fuck fuck.

The muzzle of the gun pressed even harder against his head, with near-bruising force. He could feel that the trigger was slowly being squeezed. Fuck. Derek had to do something, anything. He wouldn’t let himself just die here. He couldn’t. He couldn’t, he couldn’t, he couldn’t. 

With an all-too-shaky hand, the soldier reached up to the fork of Matthew’s legs, causing him to flinch uncomfortably and shirk back. He hated the position he was in just as much as Derek hated his own. But he soon realized that there was no way he could get at the organ underneath. That’s right, they were forced to wear uniforms that went on as one article of clothing. Shit. How the fuck was he supposed to…?

“Rip through if you want it as badly as you make it seem, you little piece of shit.”

Derek stayed completely still, unwilling to move a single muscle in his body.

What the fuck…? He wasn’t going to. He wouldn’t do it. He couldn’t.

Suddenly, he was struck hard in the back of the head with the gun, nearly causing him to wince out a sign of weakness, but he wouldn’t let himself. The situation he was in was already fucked up enough.

He moved his hand back up to the area, the other following closely behind. They both moved just as shakily as before, but a little bit more quickly, as though he could spare himself some of the torment if he just went for it without thinking and got it done and over with in one quick go.

His hands suddenly grew weak and numb, however, after he gripped the rough cloth, and he was physically unable to pull it apart right away.

He could tell that Matthew’s gaze was turned away from him, probably staring over at an empty spot of wall in order to avoid everyone’s piercing gaze, and in order to avoid the embarrassment of eye contact, and anyone seeing his face as he got sucked off by another man. It was a rather disgusting notion for both of them to begin with.

But after the muzzle of the gun pressed into the now-sensitive part of his head, his hands somehow managed to muster up enough strength.

A loud RIIIIP resounded through the entire room as Matthew’s clothing began to tear, leaving a huge hole right where it was.

Shit. He could see it. He could fucking see it. Somewhere, deep down in the recesses of his own mind, Derek had hoped that this guy may have had his dick chopped off or was actually some dyke in disguise or some shit. But no. Fucking no.

“You know what to fucking do.”

Derek was so close to just curling up into a ball and sobbing that it wasn’t even freaking funny. He had no goddamned idea just what about this situation was so fucking funny to this piece-of-shit, son-of-a-bitch officer.

He was rewarded with another blow to the back of the head when he refused to move after a few seconds, exactly where he had been struck before, and it took every last fucking iota of strength for him to keep himself from letting out a sound. Shit. It hurt. It fucking hurt. But he had to stay strong. After all, he’d been through worse, right? And he was supposed to be a warrior… Some disgusting, cock-sucking, faggot warrior.

Shaky hands reached up again, touching that organ. He could feel Matthew attempt to flinch away, clearly uncomfortable, and absolutely sickened by the unwelcome touch.

He must have been met by the cruel, stern, deathly frightening, powerful stare of the officer, because he ceased to move after only a few moments, save for some near-feverish trembling; the only way that he could show his distaste.

The other man couldn’t help it. He gulped nervously, not wanting that nasty-ass thing anywhere near his hand ever again, let alone his mouth. This was disgusting. It was humiliating. It was fucking queer.

“Oh, you just can’t wait for it, can you?”

It took every ounce of self-restraint for Derek to keep himself from glaring right back at the officer with a stare of pure malice and hatred. He fucking hated that evil, sadistic asshole, and wished that he could have some of the old weapons to shoot him square in his goddamn head.

“What are you waiting for? You’re just a fucking whore, aren’t you? You’re a fucking faggot who likes to get off with other men when you’re called to fight. Some fucking warrior you are. You can’t even keep yourself from being captured. What a dumbass!”

Th-… The fuck? What the Hell was he talking about? None of that was fucking true! Yet, somehow, he felt that it touched a nerve somewhere inside of him, even though he knew he shouldn’t have listened to any of it.

The gun moved to his cheek, the metal still cold, still stinging, threatening to give his face frostbite. He didn’t like it. He didn’t like any of it. He just wanted this nightmare to finally be over. He didn’t want it to go on any further.  
God, why the fuck are you doing this to me, you fucking prick?!

He felt the urge to cry, but he held it back. He wasn’t going to let anything get to him anymore. If he was going to be humiliated, he might as well not bring anything worse upon himself.

“Ha ha. Hey, why don’t you help him out?” He was addressing Matthew.

“You like it when men suck you off, fairy-boy? You’re just as much of a homo as he is!”

Derek’s eyes glanced up at the other man’s face for just a moment. Why, exactly, he didn’t quite know, but he was able to see that his face was contorted in frustration. His brows were furrowed, eyes tightly shut, as though he could keep out the torment if only he could just close his eyes for long enough. If only.

“Don’t think you’re off the hook just because you’re the one getting blown here. You’ve got responsibilities too, don’t you?”

The officer began putting pressure on the trigger of his pistol again, and Derek began to panic slightly, although he knew that this lunatic would probably not actually fire, there was still a chance, and Derek was scared shitless. His eyes darted around the room for no apparent reason, as he knew full well that there was absolutely no escape.

“You don’t want your friend to die, do you? Not when he was trying to do something so nice for you…”

Matthew let out a grunt of frustration and hopelessness, and the other could only imagine what the poor man’s face looked like right now. He must have wished that the gun were pointed at his own head, so that he could just be shot and get it over with. But shit doesn’t work out the way anyone wants to, does it? No, of course it never fucking does.

Slowly, very slowly but surely, Matthew reached down toward the hole made in his uniform, not willing to take any chances with this psychopath lest his friend be shot right in the goddamn head and killed right then and there.

He slowly drew out the organ in its entirety, the tip of which had been tucked underneath a bit of cloth which had still been in its way. As soon as he had done so, however, he allowed himself to face the cold, hard floor, his eyes closed tightly once again, still trying to deny reality a crucial entrance into his mind, but clearly failing.

“Hm, I think he needs a little more help, don’t you? He can’t do all of that by himself.”

Matthew grimaced as he, without even opening his eyes, groped about the air in front of himself blindly but gently. He didn’t want to open his eyes. He didn’t want to see what was in front of him. 

Finally, his hand happened upon a head covered in short, rough hairs, which he wrapped his fingers around, squeezing as gently as he possibly could, coaxing Derek to come just a little, tiny bit closer, but only to finally get this over with. Neither of them wanted to suffer this humiliation anymore.

When he looked up at the other’s face once again, Derek thought he could see him mouth the words “Fuck, I’m sorry. I’m fucking sorry” and he wished that he could say the same to him.

“You still haven’t done what I fucking told you to.”

With those words, something hard yet flexible (the sole of a boot, it felt like) placed itself on the back of Matthew’s hand, still gripping the other’s head, pushing it forward, and sending Derek straight into the other, forcing his nose and mouth full of the nauseating stench of pubic hair and male genitalia, finally managing to earn a tiny, pathetic, dog-like whimper from the man.

It was disgusting. It was so fucking disgusting, he couldn’t even stand it. If he were any weaker, he was sure that having his face shoved into another man’s dick would have made his now-watery eyes overflow with tears.

And Matthew was clearly disturbed by the forced contact as well, freezing up almost immediately. His hand hurt now, but it was something that he had to ignore, at least until that bastard let up. Matthew so very terribly close to digging his fingers into Derek’s head simply from being startled, but he managed to resist, holding as gently as ever, not wanted to pain him any more.

Derek would have been grateful, had he not been focused on what was directly in front of him; what his fucking nose was buried in.

When the officer finally removed his foot from the large hand, Derek very nearly sighed from relief, somewhat thankful that his face was no longer being crushed into fucking gross, sweaty, disgusting pubic hair. 

Matthew had a nasty red mark on the back of his hand now, and instead of ignoring it, he tried to focus his mind on it, in order to keep himself from paying attention to just what was about to happen to him, and to his friend… Poor bastard…

“Go on.”

The gun fell back to pressing against Derek’s cheek, reminding him of just what would happen to him. He could feel himself let out a small gasp of hopelessness and desperation, much like the sound one would make just as he was about to cry. But Derek wasn’t quite ready to. He wouldn’t let himself.

But the officer was ready to do anything to make him.

He slowly moved the muzzle of the gun to the back of Derek’s head once more, on a spot uncovered by hand, running through short, coarse hair along the way. It felt so fucking disgusting and nauseating and gross and it made Derek just want to punch him as hard as he possibly could right in his fucking face.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t let himself, or he would be shot dead right then and there, no question about it.

“Suck it. Now.”

The gun pressed harder into his skull than it had before, and Derek was sure that it had begun to cave in, pressing against his brain and numbing his senses. It hurt, it hurt, it fucking hurt.

But he didn’t move even an inch. He wouldn’t fucking do it. He wasn’t some disgusting dumbass homo piece of shit.

“I could fucking kill you right fucking now, do you even fucking hear me, you faggot?”

He pressed harder, harder, harder against his skull. So hard that Derek was sure he would scream if he went on like this for much longer.

Matthew bit his lip as he felt Derek grip the leg of his clothing, clearly trying to resist the pain. He wished that he could do something; that he didn’t have to witness his own friend’s suffering. Fuck. This was fucking unbearable.

Derek began to grunt uncomfortably, obviously bothered by the pain, until finally, he…

“S-Stop,” the tiny voice came out, shakier than ever.

The officer relaxed his push on the man’s head, instead allowing the muzzle of the gun to simply rest on his hair lightly.

His head was throbbing heavily, and he suddenly felt the urge to vomit on the floor beside him. He held it in to the very best of his ability, or the little that he actually had left.

“You know what to fucking do.” 

Matthew bit his lip so hard that he drew blood, which trickled slowly, so slowly, down his chin, which trembled as though he’d been caught in the middle of an earthquake.

Then, just as slowly, as though each second had lasted for fifty, Derek leaned his head forward ever-so-slightly, and apprehensively stuck out a dry, pink tongue, but only just past his lips.

And then, he allowed the very, very tip to just barely touch.

Both of them shirked back suddenly, Derek because of the awful, disgusting smell and taste, and he proceeded to cough and gag, as it was absolutely, completely un-fucking-bearable.

“I gave you an order.” 

The loud, much, much too fucking loud noise of a bullet being fired threatened to make both of them go deaf right on the spot. Derek’s ears began to ring, the sheer intensity of the blast being far, far too much. He didn’t quite know why.

But he could tell that he wasn’t shot.

He was shaking. He was shaking so hard.

Suddenly, he leaned forward again. Shit. Fuck. He didn’t want to fucking die. Not here. Not now.

“Good boy. You know there are five more where that came from.”

It was so, so fucking hard to keep the tears from coming down; it felt like the most difficult thing he’d ever had to do.

He slowly stuck out his tongue once more, and, resisting the all-too-powerful urge to cough and gag at the very notion and idea and thought of what he was about to do, he gave the nasty organ a dry, clumsy lick, nearly convulsing from the fucking disgusting taste alone.

And this wasn’t so easy on Matthew either. The feel of another guy’s tongue on him was... Fucking disturbing, to say the least. It made his stomach start to churn just to think of what was going on.

But the other didn’t want to risk getting his fucking face blown off. It was clear that Officer Homoshit Pervert was no longer screwing around. 

“I told you to fucking suck it, not lick it like a dumb fuck.”

Derek could feel the officer’s glare boring into him and threatening to disintegrate him without even having to look.

Fucking shit. Why did this have to fucking happen to him? Why?!

Then, slowly, always slowly, he tried again, but found himself physically incapable of doing so.

“Help him out again, why don’t you?” The voice was almost enough to make Derek hurl right there, on the spot.

With a shaky hand that mimicked that of an old, tired grandfather, Matthew reached down once again with his other hand and placed it on his own member, holding the limp length up ever-so-slightly. He hoped that it would be enough to keep this crazy bastard from throwing another shitfit.

The other man very nearly whimpered before he came close to it again, this time putting dry, chapped lips on it, which quaked as though he had been outside in the winter for hours and hours on end.

It was so fucking gross. He couldn’t even believe that he was fucking doing this right now. Maybe he was just some sick fucking faggot after all, if he was willing to do this to another man.

As the gun began to push itself into his head once more, Derek knew that he didn’t want that sort of pain again. It was too much to fucking bear.

And so, little by little, in order to avoid the pain, he took more and more of that rancid length into his mouth, trying to hold in all of the powerful coughs he felt scraping at the edges of his throat, but not managing to withhold his utter distaste. He was absolutely sickened by what he was doing, and he still continued to gag while trying to keep his mouth on that organ.

He knew that the sounds he was making were absolutely repulsive, but he couldn’t help it, and he didn’t care. He didn’t want this, he didn’t want this, he didn’t fucking want this, no matter how much some greasy officer said that he did.

It felt simply disgusting to feel his own lips wrapped around someone else’s fucking cock. He wished that these assholes had shot him dead instead of dragging him here. It would have been better than this; so much fucking better.

And even though Derek knew that Matthew had wanted absolutely nothing to do with this, and that he was not fucking turned on by this (he’d better not have fucking been), Derek could feel that thing moving inside of his mouth the more of it he took in.

Even when he made sounds that closely resembled near-dry-heaving, he could still feel it stiffening, little by little by little. And by the way Matthew was shaking, Derek could tell that he fucking hated this, and that he was trying to do everything in his power to keep it from getting any worse.

But when Derek paused to think about what he was doing for just a brief moment, the muzzle suddenly pressed hard into his head.

“Go on, you fucking cock-sucker.”

And so, despite the feeling of sickness and repulsion creeping over him, he continued, sliding those chapped lips over the expanding organ at what seemed to be slower than a snail’s pace, until there was no possible way that he could ever go any further.

“Ha ha, that’s as far as you can go? Help him out, huh?”

But Matthew didn’t move. He wouldn’t have been able to no matter how hard he tried. There was no way he was going to torture Derek like that. Absolutely no fucking way.

“Didn’t you fucking hear me?!”

No response from Matthew, although now his eyes were open as his face was still turned toward the floor, as though he had given up on trying to fight it. It was a nightmare, that much he knew, but there was no way he could escape from it.

“Fuck his goddamn face or I’ll shoot him right in the head, you fucking understand me?!”

Although Matthew was fully aware that it was most likely an empty threat, he didn’t want to take any chances. Not when it came to his friend’s life.

He bit his lip hard once more, drawing more blood, wondering how he could possibly get himself out of his, even though he knew that there was no way and it was all just fucking hopeless.

But as soon as that asshole officer began squeezing the trigger, and he could hear that Derek was very clearly in pain from that thing pressing into his skull, he knew that he had no choice.

Matthew still tried to hold his head as gently as he possibly could while pushing it toward himself.

Derek resisted, obviously not wanting to gag anymore. If he did, he knew that he would spill the contents of his stomach all over the floor beside him.

Matthew couldn’t bring himself to do it. He couldn’t.

But the gun was pushed harder and harder into the sensitive part of his head. Shit. Fuck. What the fuck was he supposed to do?

The officer’s glare he could feel was burning his skin. Fuck. It was awful, and there was nothing he could do, except…

“I’m sorry…” he whispered almost soundlessly, begging for any forgiveness that Derek might have left after this was over.

And, with that, he kept his hand firmly on the back of Derek’s head and thrust his engorged member inside.

He was immediately met with an awful-sounding noise; one that reminded him much too much of some kind of distressed animal about to have its fucking head blown off while it was limping back to safety. It made him feel absolutely sickened to have to listen to the sound of someone in pain.

Derek made some kind of awful gurgling, choking sound when it was all the way in, and his face was contorted in pain and displeasure and discomfort and like he was just about to puke his brains out at any given moment.

Matthew allowed his hips to relax then, pulling it back out of his mouth, the organ now covered in saliva, disgustingly wet and slimy.

Derek immediately hunched over and began to gag and cough wildly, the nauseating sound resembling those one would make just before vomit were to come up.

“Who the fuck said that you could stop?”


	2. A Gift for a Pretty Girl

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guy goes to a shop to pick out something for his girlfriend when things go wrong.

“Dammit. I forgot my umbrella.” It was only an insignificant little thought, but Stephen said it out loud anyway; not like anyone was going to hear him, but it was just a silly little habit he had picked up from his father and never bothered to drop. It’s not like it got in his way or anything. Alice even thought that it was cute. Why she did, Stephen would never understand. But he couldn’t say that he minded. If she thought it was cute and if it made her giggle and smile like a giddy teenager to hear him say stupid things like that, Jason didn’t mind it.

The clouds, colored a dark and dreary shade of gray and floating ominously above the whole town as though they would come crashing down at any second, began to drift toward each other, forming a giant mass of cold and lonely cathedrals, filled with more moisture than it could even bear to hold for any longer. Stephen drifted closer and closer toward the shops and away from the street the darker the sky above him became.

Would Alice be madder at him if he was just a little bit late or if he got there completely soaking wet and chilled to the bone? He looked up at the sky, up at the slow-moving masses of stony, cottony gray as he remembered just how disappointed Alice was when he arrived after slipping into a puddle on his way there. She scolded him for being clumsy enough to fall into water and soak his clothing. Turns out being neat is really important to her. But Stephen didn’t really mind. He loved her all the same.

A giant wet splotch came crashing down onto his shoulder. “Shit. Guess I can’t make it.” ‘It’ referring to the apartment complex in which his significant other, Alice, resided. Stephen quickly ducked and darted into the shop nearest him in order to escape the onslaught of droplets which was sure to come. Thankfully, he didn’t feel any more of them, but he was sure that there he would have been bombarded by the rain if he had stayed outside for even a moment longer.

Looking around, Stephen was grateful that he had managed to arrive here of all places: a nice little store with trinkets and various accessories scattered about on neat little shelves. It was a cute shop, and he was sure that he should tell Alice about this place when he saw her. She would love to come here sometime and look at all of this… 

“Maybe I should get her something myself…” he thought aloud once more. As Stephen fixed his gaze upon the window, he could see that the rain was showing absolutely no signs whatsoever of letting up anytime soon. He was going to be here for a while, so he might as well pick her up some little trinket before he arrived, at least as an “I’m sorry” for being a little bit late.

“Excuse me, sir, but would you happen to have any necklaces here?” Stephen inquired casually to the man at the counter in front of the store. And he couldn’t help but notice that that man looked as though he were much better built than Stephen. Odd. What would a man like him be doing working in a place like this? He looked as though he would be much better suited for manual labor than working at the counter of a tiny little shop like this.

The man only nodded in response to Stephen’s question, however, seemingly too preoccupied with staring at something on the floor. Well that was a bit rude of him, wasn’t it? 

But just as Stephen prepared to turn his back to the man and head over to look for the necklaces himself, the man finally looked back up at him, and Stephen paused right where he was, perhaps just to look right back at him.

Stephen could see that the man looked clean enough, with a near-freshly shaven face, for he could see a bit of stubble on that tanned chin. Whatever. It’s not like it matters at all. Stephen was always like that; reading much too deeply into things that didn’t even apply to him. But it did seem almost as though that man were staring at Stephen just a bit too much. Stephen even had to avert his blue-gray eyes in order to avoid those of the strange man’s. A bit odd but nothing serious, Stephen supposed.

As the man stepped out from behind that counter (which looked much too small for him, might Stephen add), he could see a tiny little tag on his shirt which read “Derek” in loose cursive lettering. Derek, huh? Not like it mattered. Stop thinking like that so much. Stephen shook his head, but he still followed Derek as he moved past the shelves of the store into the back.

“Here, look as long as you need,” he said to Stephen, that voice unbelievably low, but not surprisingly so. The man was quite large, after all. He seemed nice enough though, except… For the way he was eyeing Stephen. It made him feel slightly uncomfortable, and he kept trying to avoid those eyes that seemed to want to pry their way inside of him.

After quickly thanking Derek, Stephen turned to face the collection of jewelry in front of him, eyes examining the beautiful pieces in front of him as he decided just which one of them would please Alice and make her lips curl up in a beautiful, warm, kind little smile. Stephen began to smile slightly just from thinking about seeing her pretty face.

But he failed to notice Derek still standing beside him, or the man walking close by, organizing more of those little trinkets from large, musky cardboard boxes onto wooden shelves. Instead he focused closely on the sparkling accessories in front of him. All of them looked so beautiful… Especially…

His eye fell upon a necklace that glistened slightly against the glass behind which it lay, catching his attention as soon as his gaze fell upon it. With elegantly carved precious stones surrounded by shining silver, it seemed as though any price for it, no matter how high it fetched, would be worth it. Such beauty would certainly be worthy of Alice’s approval.

“Excuse me, sir,” Stephen called out, forgetting for a moment that Derek still stood beside him, then remembering as he turned his head in order to face him, feeling his cheeks burn slightly as he realized that he had just yelled at someone who stood right beside him. But Derek didn’t seem to mind it in the slightest, simply giving Stephen one final glance up and down before motioning to the man organizing items on shelves.

The man produced a set of keys from one of the pockets which lined his jacket before handing the keys to Derek. Stephen couldn’t help but feel that this man was eyeing his in that strange way, just as Derek had. What was it with everyone today? Did he have something on his clothes, something in between his teeth? Still, even with these thoughts that began to preoccupy his mind ever so slightly, he did not fail to notice the man’s nametag, which read “Nathan” in print. 

Nathan and Derek were the only ones who worked here, it seemed, for the rest of the little shop seemed unbelievably quiet, the storm raging on outside cut off by the walls of the small building, making Stephen forget for a moment why he had come in here in the first place, even though the little pitter-patter of raindrops on the hard ground, although faint, could still be heard.

Suddenly, Stephen was brought back to his senses. “Oh, yes. I’d like to see this necklace, please.” He pointed at the ornament which had caught his eye earlier with a long finger, not looking at either one of the men as he did so, both eyes simply focused on the beautiful piece of jewelry.

However, instead of Derek leaning over in order to unlock the glass case in which it lay, Stephen felt a rather large hand reach over and grab tightly onto his arm, pulling on him slightly even though his initial instinct was to pull his arm back away in surprise.

“What are you…” Stephen trailed off as he looked over at the large man who glowered down at him from above. What the fuck? What did Stephen do? He didn’t try to take anything so why… He felt himself being pulled closer to this man by the arm. Seriously! What the fuck was he even trying to do?!

Some other man, Nathan, Stephen assumed it was, placed his hands on Stephen’s jacket zipper and began to pull down on it with more force than necessary. 

“The fuck?!” Stephen yelled, flinging his free arm around in order to hit the one behind him. Fuck! What was he doing?! Stephen couldn’t help but have a terrible idea of what was to come, even though that idea was fucking ridiculous.

“Let go!” he screamed as Nathan grabbed a hold of his other arm and pulled it back behind him, bending it in an uncomfortable position. The stranger then proceeded to pull rather violently down on Stephen’s jacket zipper,


	3. Poor Peter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Something a little more recent, this time where some kids decide to gang up on another boy.
> 
> I only have a couple snippets of this one.

“Hey, Pete,” I said, waving my hand, a smile plastered on my face. 

He looked around for a second before finally noticing me. “Oh! Hi, David,” he replied, laughing nervously.

“Did you want to come over and play video games with us? Jeff’s gonna be there too.”

“Oh… uh, sure.” He laughed again, and his eyes darted away from mine.

\---

I watched as Jeff got on top of him and put all his weight down onto Pete’s back. Pete let out a loud sob, and Jeff punched him square in his swollen face.

“Shut the fuck up, I said.”

I watched Pete’s pitiful expression as his breathing grew more and more rapid, his eyes widened, and he shook violently as tears streamed down his face, joining the rivers of snot, blood, and sweat. He looked so fucking pathetic, so stupid as he lay there under Jeff’s whole weight, my hands pinning his arms down on the floor in front of him though one of them was so twisted and mangled and bloody he probably couldn’t have moved it anyway. Sometimes his eyes met mine and he would look away immediately and cringe as though I would hit him. I wanted to.  
Jeff spit on his hand and rubbed it down there. Pete whimpered at the sound of it like a frightened dog.

He must have felt Jeff’s dick poking at his backside, because he really started to breathe hard and fast, so hard that I could almost feel his breath on me. He crushed his eyes shut, forcing out a wave of tears, and began to squirm feebly in our grasp.

“Stop! Don’t! Please don’t!” he choked out, sobbing with each word as he struggled in vain to break free, weakened as he was. “Please! I’m begging y—“

Before he could finish, Jeff clamped one of his hands over Pete’s mouth and squeezed hard. Pete screamed into it and kicked out his gangly legs, bucking like an injured bull as he tried to force Jeff off of him with renewed vigor.  
It was no use. Jeff forced himself inside, grunting with the effort. 

Pete went completely silent and still, his eyes had shot open again and were wider than before. He stared blankly ahead. Tears continued to pour down his raw cheeks.

Jeff inched himself in slowly and moved his arm onto Pete’s upper back and rested on his forearm, his other hand still over Pete’s mouth. “He’s so fucking tight,” he sighed once he was all the way in.

Pete finally made a sound. He shut his eyes again and sobbed long and loud into the hand over his mouth as Jeff began to thrust in and out of him.

He still continued to struggle, but far more feebly than before. Between Jeff’s grunting and his own sobbing and yelling Pete would sometimes open his eyes, over which lay a thick film of tears. He snorted and coughed up so much snot and drool that Jeff’s hand was covered in it. Pete’s face was covered in it too. It was so lovely just a few hours ago, now bashed in until half the skin was rubbed raw from our kicking and the other half swelled up like we’d pumped it with water. His eyes had been so hopeful when he first walked through the door, and now, when he opened them, I could feel his despair.

I had begun to notice, while I drank in that beautifully pathetic expression, just how hard I was. I figured there would be no harm in putting my cock in his swollen mouth, especially since some of his teeth were missing now.  
I let go of his broken arm (he couldn’t move it anyway) and kneeled on his other one. He yelped in pain. I unzipped my pants and pulled them down to about mid-thigh along with my boxers. Jeff understood my intentions and removed his hand from Pete’s mouth.

“Open wide, Pete,” I said as I held my dick in my hand.

Pete cracked open his eye and, catching sight of it, let out a pained gasp and turned his head to the side, burying his face in his shoulder.

“Don’t be like that, Pete.”


End file.
